Grief and Release
by SqueeFreak
Summary: "He can't be dead. Because if he was dead, I'd be dead, too. And I'm still here...aren't I?" Just a quick little oneshot about how I think George might have handled his brother's death.


AN: This is just a short little thing I wrote in an attempt to get myself out of my writing funk that I've been stuck in for a while. It is by no means a master piece so I won't be offended if you don't like it. (And my computer is being weird, so if the space is funky, I'm sorry)

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. If I did, then this story wouldn't have to exist. :'(

Rain poured down to soak the people standing around the grave. The atmosphere as cold and dreary as the skies above. The only sounds were the pitter-patter of the water droplets and the occasional muted sob from somewhere in the gathered crowd. The sounds of grief couldn't be pinpointed, they seemed to come from the group as a whole. But how could they not grieve? So many had died. But one was unusually silent. The one who should be grieving the most was as silent as the body that had been lowered into the ground before him less than an hour ago. The others around him offered condolences and as the time wore on more and more of them began to drift away, seeking shelter from the rain and the grief surrounding the grave. Finally, as the last muted light from the sun vanished, the silent mourner was alone at last. His eyes were glazed over as he stared at the name on the headstone. It wasn't that he didn't grieve…it was just that he wasn't capable of feeling anything anymore. How could he, with his other half buried under six feet of unfeeling soil? The ginger-haired young man lowered himself to sit before the marker, his head bowed as the rain continued to pour. His fingers reached out to trace the lettering engraved into the unforgiving stone.

_Fred Weasley_

_Born 199x, Died 200x_

_Son, brother, and a dear friend _

_His memory will be forever cherished  
_

That was his brother's name…but…he wasn't dead. He couldn't be. Because if he was dead…

_'I would be dead, too. We're connected, he and I. We do everything together. So he can't be dead, because I'm still here, aren't I?' _George Weasley continued to sit there in silence well into the night, a sentinel at his brother's final resting place. It wasn't until the next morning when his mother came to find him that he finally realized. She shook his shoulder to wake him and he started, his eyes clear for the first time in days. He looked around in confusion, wondering where he was and how he had got there and where was…His eyes widened when he saw the inscription on the grave stone.

"No. No, no, no, no, no. This isn't right! He isn't-!" He felt a hand rest on his shoulder and he spun around, wide-eyed, to see his mother standing just behind him.

"It's not right, is it, Mum? Fred's not dead, right?" Molly couldn't fight the tears as she looked into the eyes of her son. They were so confused and full of panicked hope. He had finally awoken from his numbed state of mind but it was in vain. She knew that his soul would be shattered when he finally accepted what had happened. She would lose another son very soon.

"Oh! Oh, George!" She sobbed and pulled him into a crushing embrace, as though she would be able to hold him together by sheer force of will. George stared, glassy eyed, over his mother's shoulder as she held him.

"He's…he's not…he can't be…he's…not…" But no matter how hard he tried to deny it, the truth finally sunk in. His eyes welled up and he felt something within him shatter and go cold. It was the something that used to be his brother, the part of his soul where Fred always was. The part of them that had always been connected, no matter how far apart they were. Now, that was shattered. Shattered because the one who was supposed to be there wasn't. Not anymore. And he wouldn't be, not ever. He was truly alone for the first time in his life.

George clutched at his mother with a death-grip and sobbed for the loss of his other half, his soul, his twin. Molly's heart broke at the pain in her son's cries. She knew, no matter what she or anyone else did, that there would be no fixing this. There was no way to sooth this kind of pain. Not even time would dull the ache. Her boy would die of a broken heart.

Another funeral. It had only been four months since the last one. The sun was shining today, the sky a deep blue. The mourners still cried, but even as they wept, tentative smiles could be seen on their faces. They mourned the loss of another friend, another family member, but they smiled because they knew that their loved one was happier now. After four months of prolonged misery as he tried in vain to cling to life he was in a better place. Reunited with his soul, his other half.

Another stone had been raised beside Fred's. This one reading

_George Weasley_

_Born: 199x Died 200x_

_Son, brother, and a dear friend_

_He died of a broken heart but he rests happily now, _

_His soul reunited with his brother in heaven._

_His memory shall be cherished. _

Another stone had been set in front of the twin markers. This one bearing a lighter message.

_They are together now. And may God bless himself and his angels with the patience of a saint. For they are a pair of hell-raisers that we have sent to him. Have mercy on his ever-lasting soul and may their smiles never falter and their laughter ever ring through the land of the angels._

_~End~_


End file.
